Clown Stories: Tickle Me Elmo No More

not too long ago, I was on my regular grind as a clown. now, most of you know that this means I not only dress up as a clown (wig, make up, weird clothes, etc.) but also as characters like Dora the Explorer, Cookie Monster, Hello Kitty, etc. It's a great job that includes free hugs from generally cute kids, free food, and the opportunity to just be a kid myself.

back to the story....

not too long ago, I was on my regular grind as a clown. This time I was dressed up as Elmo on a very warm Los Angeles winter day. I played games with the kids and painted their faces. Pretty nice family all in all. The birthday girl was scared and crying but that is actually pretty standard fare for my gigs, oddly enough. (side note: could be because the Elmo outfit smells a bit like wet dog for the most part. But who knows?)

At the very end of my hour and half adventure, I made balloon animals for the 20 + kids at the party. There was a group of boys about 12 years old that kept on asking for extra balloons. Now, if I wanted to spend the rest of my life at that birthday party, then I would have just kept on making those balloons even if they popped or got lost or whatever. However, I am a semi-strict clown: ONE balloon per kid- NO MATTER WHAT. (of course that rule is broken often, but i stick to it for the most part). The boys kept asking and I ulitmately ignored them and packed up.

I collected the clown money from the mom, said my goodbyes and headed down the block to my car (yes, still dressed as elmo). As I leave, I hear some mumbling from the boys but pay it no mind. I was about half a block down when I hear the glorious shouts of pre-adolescent boys:

"FUCK YOU ELMO"

Yes, they screamed not once, but twice:

"FUCK YOU ELMO"

I laughed, went to my car and drove home.

hilarious! welcome to my world....

and for those of you keeping track of my antics, this was the SAME day that I was kicked out of a downtown area bar for ASSAULT (see previous blog!)

Unexpected

You kissed me in a way that has left me with flashbacks for days to follow. Those tender kisses that bring chills down my spine just remembering the laughter that led up to that first moment. Out of nowhere, I find myself craving what I did not know I missed. Our lips touched as if it was our thousandth meeting rather than the first. Shocking how casual and comfortable our arms wrapped around one another embracing the flesh and excitement of curiosity and the unknown.

the carrots, the dog and the god

* A little story first:
I am not one to really explain my writing but this is a little interesting. Quite by accident I found myself at a poetry workshop tonight- specifically a Christian Ministry poetry workshop. As someone who is not Christian at all and is probably agnostic on a good day and much closer to athiest as a rule, this was an interesting scenario. The assignment was to take 2 randomly and pre-written items (my case: the carrots and the dog) from a pile of paper and the 3rd item was automatically God... ala The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Mix these items and 15 minute time limit and you have the following poem. I guess it could have a few levels but wanted to share my actual perspective and intent.


"Each spring creates a new harvest and this year would be no different.
Green tops and orange roots to nourish the farmer's family planted beneath the soil.

A new pup finds his balance and gracefully gallops through the green-topped-orange-rooted fields- his fields that he was born to protect.
His boundless curiosity mixed with his newly found freedom led the farm's guard to the tucked away barn forgotten at the property's edge.

He enters with hesitance, fear and caution and a glimmer catches his eye.
With deliberate steps he approaches the shards of broken glass and with raised brow he sees:

the D-O-G finds his immediate reflection: the G-O-D"

electronic correspondence with my mother-

I hear the static of your absence.

Once, our connection grounded my existence.

Our link was simultaneously biological, chemical, maternal, familial, irrational, painful, and sickly.

As your mind continued to unplug slowly from the rational world, our network grew weak and then, suddenly, any meaningful interface dropped altogether. Yet day in and out and in again, the reverberations of our unnecessarily shared fears and tumor-like interconnection linger in my mind and no matter how hard I slam my palm against the machinery or adjust the bunny ears hoping to clear the snow-like images, the static remains.

Each memory blinks on high frequency but is clouded in the cacophony of screaming, mixed up, mis-matched wires, crossed over one another unwittingly creating a spark that will lead to the fire that may burn any chance of renewed or reenergized potential plug-ins.

You found your way into the realm of my sleep.

Not in that sweet way like when you used to hold me as I dreamt and your smooth breath would make me want to stay curled against your body for all my life.

Not with the passionate kisses that would awaken me to the desire I once held for you.

Not in that tender, impulsive reach of my hand as it searched for your face in the middle of the night that would reassure me of your presence.

You found your way into the realm of my sleep.

In that panicked, frozen, fear-induced shortness of breath way that your name now brings to my body.

In that bad taste in my mouth way as I recall the thousands of kisses we shared as you wished to be any where but with me.

In that way that strikes me at my core with the profound understanding that while we occasionally experienced something worth sharing, we more often spent our time dragging each other through the filthiest and most painful mud.

You found your way into the realm of my sleep.

And this time, I grabbed control of my breath and pulled myself out of this fictional moment, returned to the calmness in my soul and melted into that part of my sleep that is now focused on my own heart and actual dreams instead of healing the un-healable you.